Frozen Elegy
by The Blizzard Alchemist
Summary: Even in winter, the cold isn't always bitter, and not every day is cruel. But some bargains were never really thought through. AU Frozen, with major spoilers for both Frozen and Cold Days of the Dresden Files.
1. Chapter 1

**"It is the white bees that are swarming."**

**"Do the white bees choose a queen?" ****  
><strong>

**"Yes," said the grandmother, "she flies where the swarm hangs in the thickest clusters. She is the largest of all; and she can never remain quietly on the earth, but goes up again into the black clouds."– The Snow Queen, Hans Christian Anderson**

* * *

><p>The king of Arrendale was a lucky man. He was the king of the prosperous land of Arrendale. The land froze during the winter, but the fjords remained clear for trade. He was married to a beautiful queen, and was loved by his people for ruling with a fair and steady hand. But the couple remained childless, and he feared for the future of his country, for he had no brothers to rule after his passing.<p>

It was only until he wife pulled against his side one night, trembling as her eyes burned with tears, furious with God for turning a deaf ear to their prayers once more that he decided that any price would be worth paying to give his wife a child. The king had a hope that he kept secret from his people, for were they to know, the Church would bring its wrath upon his people. For generations, he and every king of his line had upheld a compact, leaving offerings to a woman that his people once had called a goddess. She had been the defender of their land, said to have kept the routes of trade open and free while the those of Arrendale's rivals, such as Weselton, froze and her people risked starvation.

It was the first day of fall, said to be the height of her power when he began the ritual, leaving under he pretext that he wished to have one final hunt before the season closed, only to break away from his men to be alone in the mountains. The king drew the circle from his father's books into a patch of snow, adding the runes said to summon and hold the interest of the Snow Queen. With his hunting knife, he cut a long line across his palm, letting his blood drop into the center of circle. "Longest Shadow, Queen of Air and Darkness, I call you by the compact in my blood. I needs must speak with thee! Skuld! Skuld! Skuld!"

For a moment, there was nothing, and the king felt very foolish, abandoned by yet another protector of legend, one he had been ensuring sacrifice for his entire life. But as he began to turn away, thunder rumbled above him and the clouds thickened. A pillar of black cloud descended from heaven into the circle he had sketched. The clouds billowed around him, practically choking him. When he was able to open his eyes once more, she stood in front of him.

She was beautiful, as the first ice upon the branches of trees, and .as warm. Her hair was as white as the untouched snow around him, and her eyes shone like the stares with a gaze that was a black as the void around them. Her skin was pale, almost impossibly so, as if she had been formed out of marble

"You have called me good king, and I have answered." The night air seemed to reverberate as the Queen spoke. "I trust that you are finding the terms of our arrangement upheld." There was no question in those words, but rigid surety.

"Our kingdom thrives, and the fjords remain unfrozen, as my stipulated." The king replied. "And the mountains to the north remain untouched, as do your servants in the woods. However, while my kingdom thrives, there is one thing that it is lacking."

"Oh?" The queen raised an eyebrow and the corner of her lip tugged upward in what might have been a smile on another. "Tell me King of Arrendale, what is it that you lack that you would call me to bargain? Are there not scores of people that would rush to your aid, rather than entering another compact with me?"

"There is nothing that they can do. I have consulted with every mountebank, wise man, holy man and soothsayer, and nothing has succeeded. My wife…she remains barren, and I have no heir."

For a moment the queen said nothing, until she broke into a smile so cold and lovely that the King could not decide whether to be terrified or aroused. The Snow Queen seemed to glide over the frost and snow toward him, the light coating thickening into a path as she passed over the circle and all its protections as if they were nothing.

"You fear for the fate of your kingdom after your passing. You look for an heir to someday replace you. It is in my power to give you an heir, and make it possible for your wife to conceive a child. But tell me, what would you offer me in return?"

The king took a step back without realizing it before he steadied himself. "I am resolved to my task. I would pay any price."

The Snow Queen let out a high haughty laugh as she placed an icy hand softly on his face. "Oh, I do believe you would, wouldn't you? How many prices could I state, and you would think to be worthy? But I know what would be fair…you ask for an heir? Than my price would be an heir as well."

The king suddenly gulped as he felt the Snow Queen pressing against him. His senses swam, and his body burned as he gazed down at her, feeling a hand run down his chest.

"You mean-I?"

"Don't you think it would be fun?" The Snow Queen asked. "Everything you asked for, an heir for you to raise, your wife altered the way you wish, and aid from all my servants for the children you bear. All you need to do is say yes."

The king let out a ragged breath, circling his arms around the Queen's waist without thinking. Words whispered in his ears and his senses sang with sensations he never could have dreamt of. He looked into the eyes of the woman who was not a woman down her neck, and lower further still.

And so he made his choice.

* * *

><p>The king of Arrendale was found three days later in the forest. When asked of what happened, he would not speak of it, though even years later his face would turn ashen at the mention of it. The only clue his men would have was that the first thing the king did upon returning was to pull several books out of his family library and burn them so thoroughly that nothing remained but cinders.<p>

Two months later, the Queen of Arrendale announced the joyous news that she was with child. While the child was born early, she was miraculously perfect, with the one curious note that her hair was so blond that it was almost white, far lighter than either of her parents.

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><p>"Listen now Elsa, your powers only getting stronger. They convey much beauty, but also great danger." The troll, the servant of the Snow Queen smiled up at the king with too many teeth. "Learn to control them or fear will be your enemy."<p>

The king felt a shudder run through his body, memories that he had tried so very hard to forget springing back unbidden. Of things seen. Of promises made.

"No." The King replied forcefully. "We protect her. She'll learn to control her powers. Until then…we lock the gates."

_It is better this way_, he thought, _For they have no gifts without a price._

Perhaps he ought to have remembered that not making a bargain, or making an incomplete one has its price as well. As he was pulled further under the icy waves, he thought he could hear laughter.

For Skuld, the Queen of the Winter Court of the Fey, the deal had been fulfilled in full. The king of Arrendale had received everything he had asked for in his bargain: he had an heir ready to take the throne, his wife had given birth a beautiful child that he could be sure was his and his wife's alone, and both children had been cared for into the beginning of adulthood. It was his problem, she would state, that he failed to negotiate for any protection for himself when bargaining.

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><p>The men watched the scene over the ice. Their heroic champion had been stopped from ridding the land of the Ice Witch, the new Queen of Arrendale, when her sister Princess Anna had leapt in the way. For her troubles, the Princess had been turned to ice, a looming statue along the icy wasteland. Even as terrified as they were, the sight of the sobbing queen draping herself over her sister's body gave them pause. They stood back, watching the woman grieve for her sister.<p>

Very few had seen Queen Elsa since her childhood. Of those servants who could attest to seeing her upon occasion when food was brought to her room, none could remember her ever singing, but as they stood watching, a voice carried over the ice, carrying pain and loss in a slow dirge, words interrupted by sobs.

_**The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside**__**  
><strong>__**Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I tried**__**  
><strong>__**Don't let them in, don't let them see**__**  
><strong>__**Be the good girl you always have to be**__**  
><strong>__**Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know.**_

The queen pulled away from the body of her sister, standing alone out on the ice, with only a few hazy figures surrounding her. For the few who had binoculars or a telescope, a slow change of expression could be seen as grief faded. Those who had seen the Queen the other day had seen her frightened. But this was something else. White whispers of ice danced around her fingers as she stared at the group fortififying themselves inside what had been her castle.

_**Well, now they know.**_

The only reward for those who could see over the ice to read their Queen's expression was a moment of warning when they recognized her expression. It was one of quiet, barely contained rage. The ice began to crack and shake as…things began to burst through the surface. Creatures with long claws and pointed fangs that shouldn't have been able to fit into mouths their size. An icy wind swept over the castle, windows rattling in their frames.

_**Let it go, let it go  
>I am one with the wind and sky<br>Let it go, let it go  
>You'll never see me cry<strong>_

_**Here I stand**_  
><em><strong>And here I'll stay<strong>_  
><em><strong>Let the storm rage on!<strong>_

As if by some accord, thecreatures rushed across the ice, releasing grating cries that rang as an unholy din across the field, sweeping into the first line of terrified defenders.

_**Let it go, let it go**_  
><em><strong>And I'll rise like the break of dawn<strong>_  
><em><strong>Let it go, let it go<strong>_  
><em><strong>That perfect girl is gone<strong>_

_**Here I stand**_  
><em><strong>In the light of day<strong>_  
><em><strong>Let the storm rage on!<strong>_

Elsa could hear the shouts and screams from the city. She could see plumes of smoke rising, but couldn't seem to care. In fact, there was only one thing she could feel, a sensation that was her oldest companion.

_**The cold never bothered me anyway.**_

"Marvelous work child!"

Elsa span in space to see a woman standing in front of her, an expression of rapture on her face. "We make so many plans and gambits," The woman continued, her surprisingly similar hair billowing out behind her in the icy wind. "It is satisfying to see one exceed all of your expectations."

"I don't…who?" Elsa stammered, taking a step back.

"Don't you recognize me?" The woman followed her as Elsa began to retreat. "Well, no matter. It seems that you have done quite a thing to your sister. Tut tut." The woman clicked her tongue. "That would be tricky to fix."

Elsa let out a slight gasp. "You can…help her?"

"Well, I can't offer such a service for nothing in return. I would need you to do something for me. To be willing to give up your home, give up your privilege…your name even. Would you do that child?"

Elsa looked over at the frozen figure of her sister. She thought about it. For half a second.

"Yes. Anything."

The woman's smile widened. "Good." She strode to the shaking girl, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I have high hopes for you…Mab. I always liked that name. I think it will suit you well."

And so she made her choice.

* * *

><p>"Was it hard for you to kill Maeve?" The Winter Knight asked his Queen.<p>

"I was mortal once, you know." Queen Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness, ruler of the Winter Court, protector of Creation from the horrors Outside replied. She did not elaborate. But some things do not need to be said.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: This is a crazy, short little story that sprang from a lot of things. Namely, friends correlating Elsa to Mab. And then, an article claiming that "Let it Go" is about Elsa becoming a supervillain. To spite that person, this is a "You want to see Elsa be a villain. THIS is Elsa being a villain."<strong>


	2. Early Knight

So, you know when I said that this was going to be a one-shot? That the story that had sprung into my head was a crazy bit of confluence, and I would never degrade a nice concept, and a pretty well written bit by degrading it? There would be no way that despite so many people following an admitted oneshot would stir my vanity, no amount of praise would ever give me an idea as clever, and I would never consider an occasional series of drabbles to whet my writing and help get the rust off from time to time.

Well, I'm a filthy fucking liar. I also had the benefit, in the meanwhile of writing this story, to read Skin Game, which helped with the ending. Watch out folks!

Blame my muse for sticking a rabid plot bunny in my head, with an idea for a continuation that it consumed other ideas for the plots of my longer running stories.

* * *

><p>Prince Hans of the Southern Isles titled back another glass, chugging another pint of ale in the bawdy house before slamming the pewter mug onto the counter to the cheers of the others around him. The barmaid served him, eyeing him suspiciously as she refilled his mug. Being a member of the nobility conferred special privileges when it came to the filling of ones glass without coin, and being a member of the royalty doubly so, but these excursions generally tended to leave the proprietor with a nice hole in his income for the night, not that he tended to do much about it. Generally, those shortcomings would be made up in the tips he would squeeze from his barmaids, who would be enticed to provide, <strong>*ahem*,<strong> extra services to keep the gentlemen happy before they found the company of their honest whores. In general, serving these lords was a trade off. What you lost in the cost of your booze, you generally made up in the cost of your women, or at least in the possible expense of being shut down for refusing service to one of the gentry. Whether or not he could afford to pay for the services he requested was considered a secondary concern.

Prince Hans was considered to be one of those prices you needed to pay. Any bar in the Southern Isles would consider a copper from him a myth of legend, but the tales that he would spin would eclipse even those, and the stories that drunkard storytellers would tell to their less capable drunks would fuel the trade for nights well after. After you tossed in a likely night with the local talent, you were looking at breaking even, with a high chance of turning a meager profit, so most barmaids were more likely than not to give that second, and third, and fourth pint on credit that they highly doubted would ever be paid.

For Prince Hans, the tale was always that of the one that got away. He would always speak, when deep in his cups, about how close he was to being True King of Arrendale, which for now seemed to be as audacious claim as the moon. For the Prince, it was his great tale of loss. After briefly wooing a princess of Arrendale, and making a play for the foreign throne, he had ultimately failed. The backlash had been…extreme.

His father had chosen to not disinherit him. To do so would have conveyed weakness to the neighboring kingdom. Skeptics, those who were wise enough to hold their tongue when it might have been lopped off, would suggest that there was a second reason. That there was now a chance that ten sons might die before reaching the dishonorable eleventh. But his father, the king, had been clever in his is punishment. Hans of the Southern Isles was, in essence, a Knight Errant. He held no lands, and his title of Prince was every wavering with the others in line before him. With barely any effort, his father had diplomatically crippled any real rise to power, whilst leaving one final fail safe behind his brothers.

And if there had been any regrets then, there most assuredly wasn't now that he was sixth from the throne. There had been victims of what lay North now, with the thick fog said to hide…things. Things that lurked and things that preyed, and things that would whisper in you ear and steal you very soul. The Prince had spoken of such things, and men had laughed at first. None were laughing now.

Hans set down his cup of mead and eyed the new girl, a pretty young thing with hair as blonde at the fresh morning light on the glistening snow. She gave him a coy smile as she refilled his mug, and he couldn't resist the urge to grab her by the waist and pull her into his lap. The girl made a small sound of surprise, but grinned at him as she started to refill his mug, shifting her bottom ever so nicely as she adjusted to her new position.

"My Prince…" The girl looked up, her smile with just a hint of the devil upon it. She leaned back with an draped against her chest as she refilled his mug. "You shouldn't be doing that."

"I have made a habit of doing things I shouldn't." Hans replied, her arm snaking around her waist. "I rarely regret it."

"Ohhhh my Prince." The girl tittered. She looked down meaningfully and then back at him, biting her lower lip. "I really shouldn't but…if you can wait, I could use someone who can walk me home."

The implication was clear, and Hans tried very, very hard to not allow himself a grin that some might call "predatory".

"But my fair lady, what will your father say when I return you home at this hour?" Hans asked flirtily as he continued to tease the girl, moving his hands to her thighs.

The girl let out a low moan before forcing herself off of his laugh. "My father has been dead for years my Prince. And I highly doubt my mother would object to bringing _you_ home." Hans allowed himself a smirk.

_Of course she would be._ For family without a man in the house, having the bastard child of a prince in the family, even a disgraced prince, would help them from starving in the winter. The serving girl gave him a quick wink. "I'll make sure to see you before I leave. Please don't leave before I do." She swung around, her skirts flaring out as she made a point to swing her hips a bit before looking back over her shoulder.

"Well, I'll be damned…" Hans shook his head as he took another draught of mead. "Maybe my luck is about to be turned around." It as a simple task to wait for the end of the night, despite catching a curious look from the bartender when he brushed aside some of the ladies of the evening that he was typically fond of, and any annoyance from the delay was measured by the warm glow of the mead, and a few coy looks from his new target.

The night flew by, and more drinks were had before Prince Hans felt a cool pair of lips on his throat, causing the hairs on his neck to rise in a most peculiar and enjoyable fashion.

"I'm ready for you." The honeyed words were whispered in his ears as the serving girl shuffled to the door, casting a look over her shoulder as she stepped outside into the cool autumn night. The leaves rustled in the trees and cracked over his footfalls as he stumbled out to join her.

She was waiting for him, arms entwining around his neck as she kissed him, tongue sliding past his lips as she helped his hands over the curve of her hips and beyond. "I would appreciate your company on my way home dear Knight." Her fingers traced a pattern over his chest. "And I believe I have a proper obeisance of what you would be do."

Hans felt himself grinning. "Well love is an open door. We'll see where that leads us."

The girl tittered and held his hand, gently pulling him as he moved to his horse. The creature, somewhat out of character, pulled away from his ties, rearing back.

"What is it you stupid beast?" Hans muttered, undoing the leather straps of his mooring. The instant the creature was free, it bolted, running into the woods.

"Damnation!" Hans swore, stumbling back as his ride ran away, only to be comforted by an arm over his shoulder.

"Don't worry." Came the voice in his ear, followed by arms around his waist. "It's not a far walk." He could feel a hand squeeze his, and the serving girl began to slowly lead his down the path. Her hands seemed to grow more adventurous as they want along, as did his. She seemed to resist after a bit, trying to push his hands away, but her complaints came with soft moans.

"Oh sir…" The girl pushed away, moving into the woods. Hans could feel something snarl in his belly as he chased her, running through the woods. The full harvest moon gave a clear few as he tracked her, grabbing her and pushing her down to a butte of flat stone. "Oh my Knight…" She rasped. She seemed to curl a little, half against him, half away from him in fright. "I…will you be my Knight? Will you be mine, and shelter me from harm. Otherwise…"

Hans could feel a predatory smile cross his lips. His heart was racing with the thrill of the chase, and his manhood was throbbing against his breaches, aching for release, to plunge into her. Hans grabbed her hair, tugging on it as he pulled her close. "I swear. I will be your knight if you will be mine. And now…" Hans hiked up the girl's skirts. "You're mine."

There was small murmer, the first word of which he couldn't make out, perhaps a sweet "ahhh" of pleasure, before the words "I love thee."

"I love you too." Hans replied.

She would wail, and she would whine and she would keen, and a fresh trickle of blood would flow. With a gasp and a groan, the prince released his seed. He could feel the rush of euphoria run through his body like lightning…and then another…like ice. He panted, and looked up to see the menagerie around him. Creatures of all shapes and sizes looked down at him, and he was suddenly reminded of that night, a night he could never forget in a thousand lifetimes.

"She has you son." A goat faced…thing spoke. "Well and truly won. May whatever God you seek have mercy upon you."

"There is none to give." Hans suddenly felt his lanky hair yanked, a surprising mirror to what he had done moment ago. The flash of golden hair was gone, only to be replaced with pure blinding white and Hans could feel himself shrivel as realization dawned.

"No…" His whisper was cut off as a hand was forced over his mouth, ice cascading over it. To his surprise, it didn't hurt in the slightest.

"Oh shush." A finger traced over his chest. "You received exactly as you wished." The blondes eyes turned black. "I was truly worried. I was worried that you were partial to redheads…like my _sister._" Claws of iced formed at her fingers and she swiped his chest. The impromptu claw raked him, and unlike the ice from before, this brought about a sudden rush of pain and a welling of blood. "I am forbidden from casting harm upon mortals…but my Knight…my Winter Knight…I am free to punish and please as I see fit." She placed a hand over his chest, as ice cascaded over him, providing a minor chill but no other inconvenience. "And I intended to do both at my will. Such pleasures we will have."

* * *

><p>The disappearance of Prince Hans was a minor scandal, for a while, but when his horse returned without him, with nary a sign of blood on him, the conclusion had seemed clear. The man had drank even more than usual that night, even so much that he had seemed to be having a conversation with someone who wasn't there. He'd most likely have been thrown from his mount somewhere and he, or his body, would be found eventually.<p>

No historical records reveal the fate of Prince Hans of the Southern Isles.

Only one source remains.

* * *

><p>John looked down at the coin, sure that the gold he saw was real, and then looked at the woman in front of him.<p>

"And you're sure that you want to you want to contract my services?"

The woman, clearl

* * *

><p>y highborn, smiled demurely in front of him, pretending not to look at the bag that she had thrown him that was worth far more than he would have normally made in months.<p>

"Oh, I am quite sure that your talents are up to the task. I have a feeling that they will continue to echo through the ages. In fact, I am counting on it Mr. Keats. All I ask is that you journey to the point that I have asked, and compose what you find. I think you will find this an amenable arrangement, no?'

John looked back at the purse, and then back at the woman. It was a short ride, and for what was asked…well, a new muse would hardly be a fault for a poet. A borrowed horse did well enough, and he made his way to the place spoken of by the lady. As she had said, there was a man waiting, crouched among plants. He seemed a man tortured, abmorally pale. What might have once been a handsome face was gaunt and tight, stretched arcoss his cheekbones as other parts seemed to sag.

The man seemed to moan, weak and pale, seeming as a broken man despite only seeming of the late 20s.

"Did she send you then?" He rasped, raising a hand toward a certain Mr. John Keat. "Did she?"

"Who?" The poet asked, drawing a pen at a the ready.

"_La Belle Dame Sans Merci_." Replied a broken Knight. "The beautiful woman without mercy."

* * *

><p>"It still seems like a waste to me." Queen Skuld did not resist the chance to shake her head one more time, though she did have to hide her smile. "Giving up a Winter Knight simply to your pleasures…it seems to be a waste Winter Lady."<p>

Mab smiled, offering a coy glance. "Yes, we did lose a Winter Knight for a few years…so much the pity. But the _story_ of him. Of what became of him, of what will become of others, of what happens when the fools dally with the Sidhe without warning will become legend. And Mother, please do not think that I am ignorant to what those Venators are trying. A few careful stores over a few years will provide value in the centuries to come."

Rather than being upset, the Ice Queen seemed pleased my her daughter's response. "I knew that I chose wisely when selecting a Winter Lady. It is not often that a Queen may choose someone they know to be a proper replacement." The Queen placed a hand over the cheek of her daughter. "If only you would give up that damn romanticism."

"I…" Mab, once known as Elsa pause for a moment. "I am not entirely sure what you mean."

"You could have chosen a thousand knights. A dozen princes. But you chose _the one_." Her mother's words are not a rebuke, simply a statement of fact. "There may be a day when things are not ended so tidy. A day that a choice to make such an ending may cost you. And you will know the dearest cost of revenge."

Mab smiled. "I think I understand it now."

* * *

><p>Mab looks back at her new Knight, and a new ally and remembers when she thought revenge was simple.<p>

"You dealt him the worst pain you could imagine." Her new Knight says, beginning to understand what will lay ahead. "You took away his daughter. No, you did even worse-you made him do it himself."

_And that is it._ She thinks. _A fate too cruel that I could imagine for myself, the dearest cost of revenge on another…_

And she feels nothing but cold.


End file.
